


"For The Archives" Is Not (should not be) A Battlecry Damnit

by StewedSpice



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Canon What Canon, Fix-It of Sorts, The Nerd Party is here, Timeline? Never heard of it, but they're cosplaying jocks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:42:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27702254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StewedSpice/pseuds/StewedSpice
Summary: "The last time you two "suggested" we go observe something for "research purposes" we ended up trying to outrun literal Sithspawn."OrKorda Six, but there's sexy warrior librarians.
Relationships: Dooku/Jaster Mereel/Jocasta Nu
Comments: 17
Kudos: 183





	"For The Archives" Is Not (should not be) A Battlecry Damnit

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Sometimes "Lost to the Jedi Order" just means "In the library of the Mand'alor" by BoliTheSenate and the multitude of conversations that spawned across the discord servers I'm on.

**"For the Archives" Is Not (should not be) A Battlecry Damnit**

Jaster strode into the cockpit of his ship, the clatter of Headhunter Company getting loaded for the short hop to Korda 6 echoing through the halls behind him, only to stop dead at the sight of turquoise and black hair bent over a datapad together. "What are you two doing here?" The bewilderment was clear in his voice as he had last seen them an hour ago, heading into his library. Jocastas smile was pure sunshine and innocence and Jaster didn't trust it in the slightest. "We decided to come with you," she held up a hand to forestall any objections to the idea of two _Jedi_ accompanying the Haat'ade on a job, "To observe _only_. Our records are horribly sparse where Mandalorian fighting styles and tactics are concerned. Somewhat understandable, given the givens, but the last entry was made over 600 years ago! Utterly unacceptable. The advances and changes in weaponry and armour since then have no dou-".

Her enthusiastic rambling is cut off by Yan. "And Jo really wants to see you fight," his smirk threatening to short-circuit Jasters brain, the small quirk of one side of his mouth drawing Jasters eyes up the sharp curve of his jaw to the beskad lethality of his cheekbones, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief, "And if we can also get a research project started out of it? Well, _everyone_ wins then, don't they?" He really shouldn't find the idea of a collaborative research project so attractive, especially when he already had so much paperwork to keep track of. 

"If I remember right, the last time you two "suggested" we go observe something for "research purposes" we ended up trying to outrun literal Sithspawn."

"And you got a nice new rug out of it!"

"And two sets of gouges in my beskar'gam."

"And we learned that blasters definitely didn't work on that particular strain of chyrsalides but slugthrowers and lightsabers did. Not to mention the lovely holocron and the beskad of the seventeenth Mand'alor we found."

"Fine, but observation _only_. It's a simple enough job anyway, I'll catch you both up on the details once we hit hyperspace." He slid past them to the pilots seat, hooking his buy'ce to the holder welded onto the arm, and began warming up the engines and entering his nav calculations. Culloden stuck their bucket into the cockpit, paused at the sight of two Jedi before dismissing their presence. 

"We're all loaded and secured 'Alor. Although you seem to have acquired some stowaways."

"We're hardly stowaways if we're sitting in plain view and we asked to be here." Dooku's voice was droll even as he continued skimming the datapad in front of him.

Jaster snorted, not looking up from the computer in front of him. "You didn't ask so much as told me. They're just coming to observe Cull, they want to see how Haat'ade fight."

"Your call 'Alor. I'll let the others know." Their amusement was clear in their voice, even through the vocoder and Jaster knew he was going to get a ribbing from his verde later. Culloden headed back into the rest of the ship as Jaster opened comms with Jango and Montross.

"Vertigo, Grunts, prepare to sync navs on my mark."

"Copy."

"Roger."

"Mark."

The nav computer gave a soft 'ding' as the sync completed. The ships began their take off procedures, checking in with air control for their flight paths. The routine chatter eased the edge of tension that always sat in Jasters shoulders before a job. Behind him Yan and Jo started to quietly bicker about the translation of a passage and he let it fade into the background as he focused. Into hyperspace, debrief them, then he could correct Yans pronunciation of old Mando'a and point out the cultural context for that particular passage. He couldn't _wait_ to see their faces when he explained that there wasn't a difference between fight and flirt in that dialect.

~~~

_"If that's the case then they are somehow simultaneously married and divorced!"_

_"Well we don't exactly have divorce but it's really more of a rough patch in their relationship."_

_"They stabbed each other! Srola tried to decapitate Mirna!"_

_"They were pregnant at the time and Mirna had just implied they might be a liability on the field."_

_"Where does it say they were pregnant? I thought they were drunk!"_

_"Oh it's the same word, just different context. See, that prefix-"_

_"OK it's making more sense, but why is there a Clan war over a couples argument?"_

_"Well it's not a good story without a good dramatic fight."_

_"It's - it's a story?"_

_"Yes?"_

_"As in, fiction?"_

_"Yes? It's part of a twelve -"_

_"Then why was it in the history section! What kind of ridiculous filing system -"_

_"It was under Historical Fiction!"_

_~~~_

"5 minutes to realspace! Get your buckets on and blasters ready!" Jaster took his finger off the intercom and slid his own buy'ce over his head. Jocasta stashed the datapad in her bag as Yan retrieved the small holocron they used for their collaborative work. The ship shuddered as they dropped out of hyperspace, the Korda system stretched out before them. A moment later Jango and Montross appeared, making minor course adjustments to flank Jaster. "Nothing on the scanners, looks like our approach is clear" he heard from Montross. Jocasta and Yan both shifted restlessly, but shook their heads when he glanced their way. More Force stuff he guessed, and put the query aside for later. They slid into geosynchronous orbit, and the dropships began to sound off, ending with Jango and Montross signing their ships over to Ciara and Ven as they joined their ground squads. 3, 2, 1, "Dropships away" came the near simultaneous calls from Ciara and Ven. Jaster shifted the controls and followed them down, his bigger ship held away from the flight for safety.

" **EVADE!!!"** Yans finger hit the fleetwide comm, the sharp crack of command in his voice had Jaster throwing the ship into a tight spin as the blue-white of ion cannon blasts whipped through the space where they had been. Around him, the dropships scattered into evasive maneuvers, not all fast enough -some already too far ahead for Yans warning to reach in time - but more than would have otherwise. "Set down as fast as possible," Jaster snapped into the comm, "We need to get below the cannons angle of fire".

An echo of "Lek 'alor" ~~Jangos voice among them, he hadn't lost his ad~~ and the pilots began to put their ships and themselves through their paces, but Jaster hadn't the luxury of watching, he was the biggest target in the sky and he had to move. His ship creaked as he pushed the limits of what it was capable of in atmo, hard turns and sharp drops, then they were down and he pulled up hard -osik too close, TREES - and managed to find the landing zone. He dropped the ramp before he'd even finished landing, the first squad dropping out to secure the zone as he cycled down the engine and ran a quick diagnostic. 

"Laron, ship is yours, keep her ready to lift off on my signal. Squads, sound off."

The calls came through thick and fast, only 4 squads lost and Jaster let the grief slip through him and away, the mission before them taking precedence. 

"Alright, our intel is obviously out of date if they have kriffing ion cannons. Montross, you're on the left flank, Jango, take your men right. Montross, keep it low and quiet, see what the setup is before we go charging in. Jango, you'll be circling towards the east side of the compound but stay back until Montross updates us. Oya."

"Oya!"

As Montross moves out with Vertigo Company, Jaster turns to his Jedi. They're looking north with near identical frowns, cloaks discarded somewhere, Jocastas hand resting on her 'saber. "Everything all right?"

Jocasta turns to him, a wry twist to her mouth. "A lot of anger and a lot of hate up ahead, but that's all we can tell. We're too far out to get a sense for numbers and - well it's not like we know the missing personnel you're here to rescue."

"Do you want to stay with the ship? Our intel was obviously faulty, I don't want to get two Jedi Masters killed." He keeps his voice serious - there's a time for teasing Jo about her insane archaeology adventures but now definitely isn't it.

"Hmph, I think you're rather underestimating us again Mand'alor, we'll be perfectly fine." At Jasters unconvinced helmet tilt, Yan taps the back of his gauntlet with one finger. "Neither of us are unaccustomed to firefights, and besides, we _are_ here to see Mando'ade in action. That would be a tad difficult if we stayed here."

"Well, who am I to stand in the way of research? Shall we head out?"

"Lead the way Mand'alor, and remember Yan: For the Archives!"

~~~

The scouts from Vertigo have the compound no more fortified than their original intelligence had made it seem, but the cannons are the new main feature, sitting dead center of the main yard. They're too far from the walls to be taken out with a thrown thermal detonator without entering the compound. The missing security team is in a detention block on the east side which will make extraction slightly simpler. Everything circles back to the cannons however. Rescuing the prisoners is pointless if they can't get off the planet without being shot down. The cannons have to go. Fortunately, these Kordan are idiots who have failed to clear all their lines of sight, with forest practically butting up against the walls in places. A short strategy session via encoded helmet comms has Montross and Vertigo moving to the North to cause a distraction while Headhunter Company hop the west wall and take out the cannons as Jango's Grunts slip through the east to free the prisoners. 

The compound erupts into a hive of activity as Vertigo fires shots at the north wall, drawing the Kordans attention, and as they charge to engage the visible Haat'ade, Jaster leads his men over the top. Yan and Jocasta are a pair of silent shadows slipping along in Headhunters wake, Force assisted leaps bringing them up and over the wall and over onto a nearby rooftop without a sound. It's a near straight shot, around the back of the bunkhouse - no rear doors or windows to worry about- and there's the cannons. He begins to attach the thermal detonators to the cannons when a hail of blasterfire scythes through his men from the left. Kros and Mari go down, lucky hits to weak points in their armor. More shots slam into his breastplate, knocking him back, the corner of the cannon base catching his heel and sending him tumbling. It probably saved his life as a sniper shot - overpowered enough to kill him even through his buy'ce - shrieks though the space his skull had just left, glassing the ground where it hits. He rolls, tucking himself behind the cannon as he brings his own blaster to bear, seeing the sniper throw their now useless rifle aside and draw a blaster. Armor clad figures are exiting disguised dugouts along the rear of the south wall, and Jasters eyes widen as he recognises Kyr'tsads sigil emblazoned on their chests. 

"Kyr'tsad to our south! Montross, stop playing and keep the Kordans occupied. Jango, get the prisoners clear. Headhunters, get to cover!"

They're exposed where they are, the trap obvious now but it's too late for regrets or recriminations. His verde take what cover they can get, their own shots thinning Kyr'tsads ranks as they advance. He distantly hears Jango call the successful extraction as he shoots a Kyr'tsad commando in the throat. They're heavily outnumbered and they can't retreat with the cannons still operational. His left hand scrambles for the bag of detonators before a fresh wave of blasterfire slams into them from the rear. He shouts for Montross to bring Vertigo Company as his verde attempt to retreat back towards the west wall and their speeders. Twin hums catch the edge of his hearing, blasterfire abruptly changing course midair when the Jedi join the fight. Yan lands lightly beside him, blue blade a spinning blur and he reflects the Kordans shots. Jocasta is a blur of motion on the other side of the cannon, Kyr'tsad scattering from her onslaught as Headhunter rallies behind her. The last of the detonators are secured and he opens his mouth to call a retreat when a mocking shout cuts through the din.

"Running away Mereel? Go ahead, show everyone how your so-called True Mandalorians run from the _real_ heirs to Mandalore! Or stand and fight!"

"You refused my Challenge all those months ago Vizsla and now you try an ambush? Typical Kyr'tsad cowardice! Come out and face me yourself hut'uun!"

He wasn't expecting it to work, for Kyr'tsad to stop firing and let their leader move into the open. Vizsla is carrying the Darksaber, held easily in his hand, the blade seemingly drinking the light.

"You call me a coward? While you ally yourself with _Jetii_? I -"

"Do us both a favour and shut up Vizsla. Are we duelling or are you just trying to bore me to death?"

He can practically hear Vizslas teeth grinding. Man always did have thin skin. Jaster moves to draw his beskad - it won't hold forever against the Darksaber, but if he fights smart it'll last long enough. A light tap to his shoulder stops him, as Yan presses his lightsaber into his hand. "That should make it a fair fight." His voice is no louder than usual but it cuts through the sudden hush that has fallen over the battlefield. A softer murmur, pitched for his ears only, "For the Archives, and for Manda'yaim dear heart." The curved hilt sits easy in Jasters hand and the thrum of the cerulean blade as he ignites it is more familiar than it ought to be. He slides into an opening Makashi stance, blade held ready as he allows all but his opponent to fall away. Vizsla is talking again but it's easy to tune him out, to watch his body language, his feet rather than his ha- now! Vizsla lunges but Jaster has already slid aside, his 'saber slicing a thin line just above the kneecap. He slips past and scores another strike along Vizslas back before he can turn. Vizsla isn't accustomed to fighting someone who actually knows what they're doing and it shows as Jaster evades a furious overhead blow and carves more blood from him in payment. He falls back a few steps, opening up a little breathing room as they begin to circle in earnest. Vizsla's body language is all fury and pain and Ka'ra he's _still talking_. Jaster feints and Vizsla triggers his jetpack to evade, barely touching the ground before he powers forward nearly horizontal to the packed earth, slashing the Darksaber as if to cleave Jaster in two. Unfortunately for him, Jaster has recently gained extensive experience swordfighting people who think gravity is a suggestion so he drops, twisting to slice at his enemy's legs as he passes overhead then rolling to his feet to see Vizsla land heavily. Jaster smiles grimly, another hit. Death by a Thousand Cuts is still death, but it looks like he may have nicked the femoral artery with that last strike. It won't bleed like a beskad wound but it'll still hamper Tors movements. He blocks a series of rapid stabs and short swings, before ducking in under an overhead strike and headbutting Tor, sending him tumbling onto his back.

"Will you yield and swear -"

Tor cuts him off with a furious roar, bull-rushing him with a flurry of swipes and jabs to drive Jaster back, but the blood loss is already starting to slow him down and make his strikes sloppier. He's a decent fighter, but unaccustomed to duelling and utterly outclassed when Jaster has honed his skills training intensively with two of Jedi Order's best duellists. He can hear Yans sardonic voice - deflect to the left - and Jocasta's subtle glee - take him out at the knees! - as he evades, slips to Tors right side and brutally stomps his knee in. Tor hits the ground and Jasters borrowed lightsaber bites deep under the lip of his buy'ce, Tors lifeblood gushing out to stain the earth as the Darksaber falls from nerveless fingers. 

There's a victorious roar from his verde, but _of course_ Kyr'tsad open fire again. He's exposed, with nowhere to go but twin azure blades are already intercepting the shots, Yans 'saber leaping from Jasters loose grip to its maker's skilled grasp. Jaster grabs the Darksaber from the ground, switching it off and shoving it into a pouch on his belt. He draws his blaster again, firing around the whirling lightsabers as the three of them begin a steady retreat. A quick glance shows a relatively clear path behind them, the Kordan dead or scattered, but no sign of Vertigo and no sound from them on comms. The silence from the north worries him, but there's nothing he can do right now. 

A flash of silver catches his eye and Jango and his Grunts jetpack over the south wall, opening fire on Kyr'tsads exposed rear. Headhunters shift from a retreat to a pincer assault as soon as they spot Jango, hammering into Kyr'tsad and giving them no respite. Some of the hut'unne begin to try and slip away, but their ambush site has left them boxed in. The Grunts are in melee now, and Jaster is forced to switch targets, taking out anyone caught on the edges of the all out brawl. Jango is thrown clear by a mountain of a commando, bouncing off the hard packed dirt, his buy'ce flying clear. He barely avoids a blaster shot, frantically rolling to the side and trying to push himself to his feet as the commando charges him. A silver armored Kyr'tsadii lands on their fellow, beskad hammering through a weakpoint in the mountain's armor. They abandon the blade, drawing their blasters as they turn their back to Jango and begin to fire on their own people. Jaster quickly tags them as an ally on his HUD, but the battle is over. Jango is back on his feet demanding answers from his new friend as other Haat'ade turn toward them. Their blasters are dropped to the floor as the Kyr'tsadii reach up to pull off their buy'ce. The face is that of a young human woman, a few years older than Jango - who has flinched back as if struck, a strangled "Arla?" falling from his lips. 

~~~

_"They told me you were dead, that Mereel had gotten you killed, and I -"_

_There are tears. A mourned loss found alive is no small thing and the grief and relief tangle. Jaster is already making plans, lists of trusted baar'ur who will help her recover herself, physically and mentally. He leans into Jocasta, taking comfort from her quiet recitation to her recorder. In a moment he will turn, he will organise the search for Montross and Vertigo. In a moment, he'll comm the ships and have them come to the wounded. For now though, he enjoys the pressure of Jocasta using his pauldron as an armrest, the lingering sense memory of her lips on his and Yans fingers tucked against the pulse point at his wrist, the sweep of his thumb a soothing counterpoint to the adrenaline in his veins._


End file.
